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Thursday, February 10, 2011

Sisters and Other Strangers

The past few days, since I had a fight with my sister over this blog, I have been thinking more and more about what it means to be the sibling who is sick.  My friend Sonja and I have talked about it-she has two brothers who will probably one day start a family of their own.  Watching siblings starting their own families can be torture on the infertile/barren/sick.

The first thing that I heard after I woke up from my hysterectomy was that my sister had given birth to a boy.  I had been saying for months that I just knew she was going to go into labor while I was in surgery, and everyone kept saying that I was being stupid.  Bigger than life-before I walked back to the delivery room, my mother got a text saying it would be soon.  When I woke up, broken and gutted-I asked my husband if everything was ok.  He said yes.  I asked about my sister.  He said "we have a nephew."

When my parents got back to see me (after driving 45 minutes to see her), the very first thing that was said was "do you want to see a picture of your nephew?"

Not really, mother, but ok, I will pretend to be happy at this moment.

Don't get me wrong, eventually I was happy, but mostly I just wanted to feel my own loss for just a few moments.

My siblings will have families.  I hope for nothing more than for M's children to grow happy and healthy, and I hope nothing more than for N to one day be able to legally marry a woman she loves and start a family of her own.  That all being said, I will still always be the sick one.  I will always be the one trying desperately to get them to understand-and always failing.

Once, after another large fight with M, I actually convinced her and my mother to sit down and talk about Endometriosis, PCOS, and Adenomyosis.  I brought all my books and research and journals and all kinds of things.  A whole bag full of information that I had been trying to share with them for months-and now I was finally going to get to.  M proceeded to tell me that (another M), our cousin, who also has endo, was able to get through school and work full time-therefore I must be faking or something.  She would not even try to hear me when I told her that this disease effects every single woman differently.  She refused to listen-refused to see things for what they were-and left in a huff.  My mother kept the books and info and read them, and for that I am thankful.  There were things that she didn't know-and at least she made an effort.

Then after this, when we had a family event in ND, we stopped in Fargo for the night, which was uber cool, because it meant that I was going to get to finally meet one of my best friends, Sonja.  My mother and M were sharing the room with me, and expressed interest in meeting her to.  Sonja and I went up to the room, and M said, and I quote, the following to her...

"I just want to say thank you so much for being there for Sara because I know how much she needs it and I know how much it helps her to have you there for her."



M's big thing is that my online friends and blog friends who have endo all feed me.  I feed them.  We "feed off each other."  She says this often.  But when she is actually faced with another human being who suffers like I do?  Oh well then its all "I understand" and "thanks for the support."


The whole thing is-I can't change it.  I can't make her see me for who I am, and I can't make her grow up.  But I can try.  I can try to get her to see who I am and what I am-and I suppose if she never gets it, then thats her loss.  Because lets face it-I am pretty damn cool.
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